Piper's Rose
by loving-life
Summary: The tale of Beauty and the Beast with a few twists, or at least I hope they're twists. A combination of multiple retellings with a dash of my own. Gasp! Does that look like a CHAPTER 18!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story is based on "Beauty and The Beast." I do not own the story line nor the general basis for the characters.

**Piper's Rose**

The rose lay in the exact center of the oak table like a dying child, the colour of its brilliant petals as red as fresh blood. It was a perfect rose: perfect and deadly.

"It would be like Piper to pick a present that would cause us all heartache and misery," sneered Jeanine from her position on the left hand side of the table. "This rose will ruin us."

"No more gowns or fashionable jewelry," Veronica said, her hands clenching. "Piper has ruined us already, Jeanine."

"I shouldn't have stopped." The old man was berating himself endlessly, hands trembling and mouth quivering as if somehow that could change the past. He rubbed his temples with worn fingers and ran a hand through his grey hair. It looked as if he had aged ten years in the past day.

The front door slammed and all three jumped. The old man looked as if he wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow him up at that instant.

"Hello?" Footsteps sounded in the hallway and then in walked a girl. She was about seventeen years of age and had brilliant grey eyes that held a strange sadness unaccounted for. Her long auburn hair was neatly pulled back in a simple braid and she was clothed in peasant's garb. Jeanine's lip curled as she looked at her younger sister.

Since the day Piper was born, she had been, in the opinions of her family members, nothing but trouble. Their mother had died giving birth to Piper and old Mr. Harris had never quite forgiven her for that, as if it was Piper's fault that his wife had died. It didn't help that Piper grew to look astonishingly like her mother ... except for the inescapable sadness that always seemed present in her dark grey eyes.

Jeanine and Veronica hated Piper with a vengeance and so they endeavored to make her life miserable in every possible way. They didn't allow her to have any friends and her natural shyness soon made her become so introverted that it had taken quite a bit of convincing to make Piper ask for a job as a maid at the Bowstring Inn when the family had fallen on hard times after their father, a once prominent merchant in the area, had had his most expensive cargo fall to pirates. Since then, the family had been living in a tiny village on the outskirts of a huge wood that was said to be enchanted with a number of spells and such.

"Good day, Piper," Mr. Harris said stiffly, as if he were speaking to a peasant instead of his own daughter. Piper's eyes flew to the lone rose in the middle of the table and her eyes brightened for a single minute and then dropped to the floor.

"Yes, it is your rose, Piper," Veronica said, exasperated. "But our father got it only at great cost to our family."

"What do you mean?" Piper asked, her voice soft.

"Tell her the story, Papa," Jeanine said. And so Mr. Harris began.

It had been a cold night when he had gotten lost, so cold that his eyelashes had nearly frozen together and he couldn't see a thing with the snow blowing around.

He had just begun to think he would never return home again when suddenly, directly in front of him, a tall stone fence appeared in his path. Despite the fact that he could hardly see, he had been certain there had never been a fence there before, as tall as two men standing on each other's shoulders.

Following the path, he made it to a gate that was surprisingly easy to open, despite the massive size of the iron gates. Inside the gate, the snow was no less fierce, but he was able to find his way to, of all things, a castle. What surprised him most of all was a little rosebush growing just outside the castle door. It was not the kind of weather roses flourished in but yet these roses were growing as if it were summer and they were as perfect as a newborn babe. Remembering Piper's wish, he knelt down to pluck a rose and his finger was pierced by a thorn as he separated the beautiful rose from the bush. Instantly, his world went black and he fell, still clutching the rose.

When he woke, he was in a four poster bed across from a blazing fire. His clothes were hanging neatly by the fire to dry and his shoes were placed evenly next to the door. He didn't remember coming inside; the last thing he remembered was the rose.

The rose! He opened his hand. Four neat puncture wounds in his palm and one in his finger had been cleaned. He looked around. The rose was nowhere in sight.

"Are you looking for this?"

A cold voice interrupted his thoughts. He would always remember that voice: it was as if the snow had found its way into someone's soul and now fell in the form of cold, level, uncaring words.

The owner of the voice stepped from the shadows and Mr. Harris nearly fainted. The beast was something from a horror story, from one's worse nightmares. He was as tall as a man and walked as a man walked, but he was covered in thick grey fur.

He was a wolf. Uncompassionate dark eyes gleamed from above a long, slender snout. Teeth as white as ivory and sharp like a knife winked at him from a gaping maw. Mr. Harris closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow.

"You needn't worry about me," the wolf said. "I've already had my meal."

Mr. Harris opened his eyes. The wolf-man was sitting on his haunches, watching him with eyes as cold as ice.

"Good," Mr. Harris managed.

"Well, I suppose so. But I will not be full forever."

Mr. Harris shivered. The wolf-man smiled (if it was possible for a wolf to smile) and leaned back.

"Now onto the matter of this rose. Those bushes are special to me and I do not take kindly to my roses being taken without my permission."

"Please, sir, I have three daughters at home who desperately need me--" Mr. Harris begged, hoping to appeal to what limited compassion the wolf-man had.

"Three daughters?"

"Aye."

The wolf-man smiled again. It was not a nice smile.

"Very well, I may spare your life yet, you pitiful wreck of a human being."

"Thank you, thank you ..."

"On one condition. You may take this rose and go home, so long as you return in one week's time with one of your daughters. This daughter will spend the remainder of her days here, and may never leave this castle. If none of your daughters are willing, I will come and fetch you and you shall never again see the light of day."

"But ..."

"I have the power, so I will make the rules. My servants will see you to your house. Good day."

And the wolf-man left without a backwards glance. Mr. Harris picked up the rose and started home.

Piper sat very still, her eyes on the rose at the center of the table as her father finished his story. It was silent for a long moment and then Veronica spoke.

"We are ruined forever," she said. "No more will the fashions of the city grace our figures or the jewelry of nobility hang around our slender necks. Beautiful gowns will never be ours and --"

"I'll go," Piper said softly and it became so quiet that the snow could almost be heard. Mr. Harris cleared his throat.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, though he had heard perfectly.

"I will go in your place, Papa," Piper said, looking up at him. "You are needed here more than I."

"But you are so young!" Mr. Harris argued feebly. "You have your whole life ahead of you."

"You supply my sisters with their wants," Piper said. "I do nothing. Let me go instead."

In the end, it took hardly any convincing for Mr. Harris to agree to let Piper go. Despite his protests, he was actually quite glad. He knew that Veronica and Jeanine would never consent to go to the castle and he didn't want to die nor live the rest of _his_ natural life at the castle. Piper solved that little matter. He sighed in relief as he readied for bed. He had killed two birds with one stone. Only a few could do that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A light snow had begun falling when Piper left the next morning. She stood in the doorway of the little cottage that had been her home for three long years and watched the snow drift to the ground, dancing in the wind.

"Good bye," Mr. Harris said, embracing his daughter awkwardly and then stepping back almost instantly. Piper's eyes spoke of her pain but she said nothing. She was used to the indifference with which her father treated her. To have received even an embrace from him, no matter how short, was something she had experienced very few times in her life.

"You are letting all the cold air in, Piper," Jeanine complained, slapping her arms to keep warm. Now that their family had been saved from ruin, she thought very little of the sacrifice Piper was making.

"Godspeed," Veronica said, attempting compassion and falling miserably short.

"Good bye," Piper said softly and then she was gone, disappearing into the whirling snow. Soon, not even footprints would be evidence that Piper had passed that way.

"Well, that's that," said Jeanine briskly. "I suppose you want some breakfast, Papa?"

* * *

Piper remembered little of the journey to the castle. It was cold and her thin wool cloak did little against the biting chill of the wind. Her feet froze in her flimsy leather boots that had been worn by her father decades ago and were far past their prime. She shivered, pulling the cloak tighter around her and bowing her head into the wind.

She had not been surprised by her father's willingness to let her take his place at the castle. Quite frankly, she was startled that he had even argued at all. Usually he did not even pretend to look out for her welfare. It was only by digging around in the attic that she was able to procure the boots for her journey.

She soon arrived at the iron gates and pushed them open. She saw the little rosebush and an empty, almost forlorn spot where the rose that she had in her freezing hands had once grown. She turned away and forced open the huge wooden doors.

"Hello?" she called bravely into the huge ballroom that stretched out before her. A few flickering candles lined the walls, but they were hardly enough to light the way. The steady pounding of her heart sounded thunderous in her ears.

She walked down the stairs to the ballroom below. It looked as if at one time it had been a beautiful place, with expensive woodwork and crystal chandeliers and long red carpets, but had fallen to ruin. Everything, from the paintings to the carpets, looked as if it had been torn in a wolf's fit of rage. Piper shivered. If the wolf would not hesitate to ruin such beauty in a fit of anger, what would he do to her?

She wandered up the second flight of stairs across from the first and turned left. She walked aimlessly through the long, dark expanse of halls until she arrived in a huge room. It was even worse off than any of the rooms she had been in; it looked as if a hurricane had whipped through the room, dicing everything in sight.

There was one part of the room that had not yet been torn to pieces. A huge painting that stretched from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, covered the left wall. Piper walked over and stared up at it. It was a mural, depicting a young man, his shoulder locked in a giant wolf's snarling jaws. A few steps down, the young man was staring at himself in horror as he sprouted hair and became the wolf. An old man watched, his head thrown back, laughing.

The next scene showed the young man on his knees as a group of people turned their backs on him, shunning him as they walked out a door. Piper reached up and touched the tears on his cheeks, so life-like she could almost feel the moisture beneath her fingertips.

The next picture depicted the young man tearing apart something and Piper saw the wildness in his eyes as he became totally consumed by the wolf. There was nothing left of human compassion in him, nothing that tied him to the world of humanity.

But the next part puzzled Piper. The last bit of the canvas was completely bare, as white and pure as the snow that covered the ground outside. Not a single paintbrush had ever touched the flawless canvas and Piper wondered why the painting had not yet been finished.

"What are you doing?"

Piper whirled around, dropping her satchel with a few belongings she had brought. A man stood before her, tall and proud--the man from the painting. He was handsome, but in a cold, unforgiving way. His eyes were as black as midnight, his hair as dark a brown as Piper had ever seen. His face was expressionless save the hard fury in his inky eyes. He was no wolf, but he might as well been one. There was no mistaking the bestial look about him, despite his fine clothes and the cruel intelligence in his face.

"I am sorry," Piper said, leaning down and picking up her satchel. Her face flamed and she clutched the bundle to her breast.

The man pulled a tasseled cord and a curtain fell over the painting. His eyes were flinty. "You may never see that again, or else I shall kill you," he said and Piper did not doubt him. "In fact, I should kill you now."

Piper's throat constricted. "I am new here," she said, surprised that she was speaking. Normally her shyness inhibited her such that she could not speak at all. "I didn't know ..."

"SILENCE!" the man roared and slammed his fist down on a table. It splintered and Piper flinched. "You will speak only when I ask you to speak."

Piper ducked her head and pushed past him.

"Where are you going?" he asked, obviously amused.

"Home," Piper whispered. Hands as cold as death grabbed her arms and spun her around. Piper looked up at him in terror, trembling beneath his hands.

"You cannot go home, foolish girl," he said softly, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "This is your home, now."

Piper backed away from him. "This is not my home," she said, her soft voice shaking. She looked bravely up at him with her always sorrowful eyes. "You have not made it a home." Despite her fear, she tilted her quivering chin up defiantly. "May I see my room?" she asked. He bowed, mocking her.

"My servants will show you," he said and almost immediately, invisible hands grabbed her and began walking her down the long hallways, up staircases and through the castle itself until they came to a small door. Opening it, Piper walked into the only room that looked as if it hadn't been touched by the wolf. A four poster bed sat opposite a cold fire. An armoire and writing desk sat along one wall and an open door revealed a closet. A washbasin sat on a neat little table. Piper walked to the armoire and was surprised to see a number of beautiful dresses hanging inside. One lifted as if by magic and pressed against her. She backed away.

"I shall not wear it," she said and it hung itself neatly back up. Shaking with fear, exhaustion, and sorrow, Piper curled up on a giant window seat and wept for what she had done.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

She was not what he was expecting, Raoul thought, ripping to shreds an old chair that had committed no crime except to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was a small thing, the top of her head hardly reaching his shoulder, and frightened, although he supposed he could allow her a bit of fear. She was nothing like the father; he could feel something emanating from her that could not even be hidden by that pathetic patched excuse for a dress she was wearing. He knew not what it was, but it made him wary of her. Her father had been a typical, thoughtless, selfish human with no thought or compassion for anyone but himself. It was that kind of human that allowed Raoul to rationalize his actions instead of trying to fix them.

The moon shone down on his now wolf figure as he raced through the castle, snarling and snapping at anything that came in his way in an effort to forget the way she had trembled when he touched her.

* * *

Piper woke the next morning to a gentle shaking, hands on her shoulders. For a few moments she thought it was Veronica telling her to wake; she was late for work when she saw her things drying by a gentle fire. She looked around to see the person who had been shaking her but no one was there.

"Good morning, child," said a bright voice, obviously an older woman's.

"Good morning," Piper said cautiously.

"Did you have a good night's sleep?"

"Yes."

"You look refreshed. Come now, and we will find you something appropriate to wear."

Piper stood and gentle hands pushed her toward the armoire.

"I think the green frock will do nicely. Come child, the master doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Piper halted, the green frock in her arms. "The master?" she asked hesitantly.

"Why yes. He has asked that you join him for breakfast and he is not usually refused." An almost fearful note sounded in the voice and Piper shivered.

"Give him my compliments," Piper said quietly, "but tell him I will not join him to break his fast."

The voice was silent for a long moment. "Are you sure it is wise ...?"

"Please."

"As you wish," the voice said and left.

It took only a few minutes before a horrific pounding began on Piper's door. Stumbling into her robe, she walked calmly over, although her heart was beating fast.

"Yes?" she said calmly.

"You will join me for breakfast or else I shall tear this door from its hinges!" spat out the man on the other side of the door.

Piper took a deep breath, forcing her dry tongue to move. "I am not dressed," she said. "And if you think I will join you after the abominable way you treated me yester night, you are gravely mistaken." Her voice trembled unconvincingly and the man laughed. It was more of a bark than anything.

"You are frightened of me."

Piper swallowed. "You have given me no reason to think otherwise."

"Perhaps I want you to be frightened of me."

"Then you have succeeded. But I will not join you for breakfast."

Silence. "I am not accustomed to having my wishes refused."

Piper said nothing. She opened the door a crack and peered out at the man standing at her door. His cold eyes grazed hers and she pulled her robe tighter around herself, forcing her gaze to meet his.

"Until you give me a sign that you will treat me as a gentleman should treat a woman, I will not join you for anything: breakfast, dinner, or supper."

He smiled his cold, cruel smile. "Then you will not eat at all."

Her lips trembled but she stood firm. "Very well," she said. "I will not eat."

She shut the door softly in his face, leaving him standing in the hall. Once the door had been shut, she slid to the floor, tears wet on her face. Her legs were hardly able to support her weight and she felt as if she had just run a great distance. Never before had she spoken to anyone in such a manner and it startled her that she could speak so to a man who would soon as kill her as look at her.

"You will dine with me before the week is out," the man said from behind the closed door with a strange snarl in his voice. Then Piper heard the soft padding of his footsteps as he walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

First to my reviewers:

**Aerinha:** Yes, it is kind of like the Disney version. You may find bits and pieces of random "Beauty and the Beast" stories scattered throughout because I have a tendency to be influenced by other books/movies. And yes, Raoul is a werewolf type because I figured he has to be good-looking and Piper has to overcome the beast inside more so than his outer appearance. At least, that's my reasoning.

**anomaly** and **Phoebe Holly**: Thank you. I will try to keep updating.

**TrudiRose**: Thanks for commenting on the descriptions. I'm always afraid I'll take too long describing stupid things but I'm glad someone liked them.

And yes, I sometimes think that "Beauty and the Beast" versions take too long to get started although most of them are brilliant once they get going.

**Helpful**: blushes Sorry if it's in bold. I didn't realize that until today. Oops.

Chapter 4

Bewilderment was a feeling Raoul had hardly ever experienced in his life and it had taken him aback for a moment. He had not been expecting the girl to openly refuse his request to join him for breakfast. When he had heard it, he thought perhaps a little brute force would show her who was the master of the castle, but when she had opened the door and looked up at him with eyes both frightened and determined, he could not bring himself to rip the door from the hinges. It had puzzled him even more than her refusal; he, who had torn apart the castle without a thought, couldn't attack a single door. The feeling of helplessness irked him and he slammed his fist against a wall, satisfaction flooding his malevolent eyes at the hole that had appeared in the wall.

"I am the master of this castle," he murmured, his dark eyes flinty.

"Yes, of course you are," said a man's voice, soothing. Invisible hands began massaging the knots between Raoul's shoulders. He relaxed, sitting down in a chair.

"She shall not contol me," he said, eyes closed.

"Of course not."

Raoul smiled. The girl could die of starvation if she chose. What did it matter, anyway?

The hallway was empty when Piper finally emerged from her room clothed in the green frock. The invisible woman, whose name was Mrs. Lamphrey, followed Piper nervously, wringing her unseen hands. If the master found out that Piper was wandering the halls against his wishes there would be blood on his hands by tonight. He had told Mrs. Lamphrey specifically that 'the girl' as he called her, was not to leave her room except to dine with him.

"This is dangerous, child," Mrs. Lamphrey whispered.

"I know," Piper said and her voice shook a little but she stared bravely into the infinite length of darkness that stretched out into the bowels of the castle. "But I shan't let him think I will let him win this fight."

Piper was surprised by her own courage. Normally she would have been content to stay in her room until the end of her days. Still, there was something about this place that piqued even _her_ curiosity in a way that forced her to leave her room and journey through the frightening halls.

"If the master finds out ..." Mrs. Lamphrey said, ending the sentence there. Piper's knuckles whitened around the door handle but she closed it softly behind her instead of running into the alleged safety of the room. The click was thunderous in the silent halls and Piper jumped. She stood motionless for a moment, straining to hear the sounds of the wolf-man running toward her to tear her to shreds, but only heard the frantic beating of her heart.

Cautiously, Piper walked through the halls, peering through this or that door. She didn't know exactly what she was looking for but was sure she would know when she found it. She passed many rooms that looked identical: the drapes were slashed, the carpets pulled out, the paintings thrown to the ground in a fit of wildness. Closing one door softly, she looked in the direction where she suspected Mrs. Lamphrey was.

"I would very much like to put these rooms back in order," she said, her voice small. "Do you think I may?"

Mrs. Lamphrey stared at the girl in wonder. What an odd request! Surely she knew the master would wreck the rooms as soon as she could get them clean, if only to spite her efforts.

"The master forbade you to leave your room ..."

"Please? I must have something to do or else I shall go mad."

"But what will you do?"

Piper's sad grey eyes darkened. "Scrub windows and throw things away that have been broken beyond repair. If I enlist the help of the servants we may even repair the walls and carpets."

Mrs. Lamphrey paused. The master would be very displeased if he knew. But there was something about this girl that Mrs. Lamphrey felt was different from any of the other women she had known, in the 'Before' time. Something that made her clear her throat and give an affirmative nod before she realized Piper could not see her.

"Yes, you may clean the rooms," Mrs. Lamphrey said. "The master will not be pleased but these rooms are in need of a good tidy-up."

Piper's eyes shone with purpose. "I shall begin tomorrow," she said.

Mrs. Lamphrey bit her lip and followed Piper back into her room. Tomorrow would be a day of reckoning, she thought. If the master finds out ... She shook her head and entered Piper's room. She would deal with the master when that time came.


	5. Chapter 5

Her few years at the Bowstring Inn had prepared Piper for the arduous task of cleaning the rooms of the castle. True, she had never seen such total chaos but when some of the guests had gotten particularly drunk, the rooms would soon look as if every possible natural disaster had torn through.

The invisible servants avoided Piper for the first few days, afraid that the wrath of the master would be incurred upon their unseen heads if they helped her. But after a while, and when there was no sign the master knew about it, the servants began taking the pile of garbage Piper left at the door and depositing it outside the castle walls in the barn where the master hardly ever went.

Piper began to learn to listen to the servants ... even calling them by name when she learned them. The servants warmed up to her and she found bread and jam and water by the side of her bed every night. It was a simple gesture of compassion and Piper appreciated it.

"How can she be surviving this long?" Raoul said, kicking a desk. It crumpled neatly under the blow.

"I do not know, master," the unseen man, whose name was Tovu, said. He was an obsequious little man, even 'Before'. Raoul knew it, but Tovu was companionship, however unbearable his personality.

"She must be stealing food from the kitchen," Raoul said, running a hand through his dark hair. "She should have been dead long ago."

"I believe the servants are helping her," Tovu said, happy to have finally ratted out his fellow men. It gave him a perverse pleasure to point out their shortcomings to Raoul, who would fly into a rage at the sound of a smile.

Raoul's eyes narrowed. "I shall see to this immediately," he said, storming out of the room, and flying down the halls to where Piper was innocently scrubbing the floor of a particularly nasty room.

He saw her on the ground and halted. She was whistling a merry little tune, one that he seemed to remember. He stopped for a moment in the doorway, his shadow thrown across the floor. Piper looked up at him, paused for a moment, then set right back to whistling and scrubbing as if she hadn't seen him. It infuriated him that she did not just stop. He would have to ask her to stop. He stood in the doorway, glaring down at her as she scrubbed. Finally he could not stand it any longer.

"Stop that infernal whistling!" he hissed. She looked at him.

"Oh, it is you," she said as if she had just realized he was there. He almost winced--almost!--at her words but caught himself just in time. His expression faded back into cold neutrality.

"I gave explicit instructions that you were not to leave your room," he said, his dark eyes glaring out at the room. He felt the servants shrink in fear.

She sat back and tilted her sad grey eyes up to him. "I am aware of your instructions," she said calmly. Her voice wavered imperceptibly.

"Yet you deliberately disobeyed them."

She swallowed and he saw her cheeks turn white. "I did," she said levelly. Her frank answer startled him. He stood staring at her, at a loss for words. She looked back at him and he saw fear in her eyes, a soft fear that struck him to his very bones. For a few seconds he was ashamed of that fear. For a few seconds he was almost human before the scars on his shoulder began to throb and the incessant howling of the wolf pounded in his skull and he turned the shame into anger.

"You are foolish, then," he said coldly. "A stupid, foolish little girl."

He took a few steps toward her. She stood and backed against the wall. The fear was very strong in her eyes.

"Such rash actions warrant a punishment," he said, and lightning fast, moved to strike her.

He had not been expecting her to duck, nor for his fish to connect with the wall in such a fashion that it cracked and the ceiling began falling slowly, carefully. He heard a scream, felt the stone hit his head and all went black.

Piper watched him crumple to the floor after the stone had hit his head with a glancing blow. He fell to the left which saved his life; the stone with which the castle had been made of crashed to the floor, his right leg buried beneath it. Had he stayed where he was, he would have been killed.

Coughing, Piper crawled over. With all her strength, she managed to pull the stones off of his leg. It was mangled and torn and she could see the faint white of his bone. She steeled herself.

"Help me bring him into my chambers," she ordered the servants, lifting his head and shoulders. "I need a wet cloth and some bandages and something to make a cast."

The servants complied and ran to find the respective items.

Piper, with the help of a few invisible men, managed to carry him into her room. Pulling back the bedcovers, she helped the men lay the master down. Piper bit her lip. She hoped she knew enough medicine to set the bone properly. Taking the wet cloth she had been supplied with, she bent in and set to work.


	6. Chapter 6

He looked so small and alone in the bed with his leg wrapped in cloth that it was easy--for just a moment--to imagine him to be something other than the cold-hearted man that Piper had seen. She covered him up gently and sat down to keep her watch.

She had been watching and taking care of Raoul--she had just learned his name--for the long week since the beating he had taken. It was a hard task; even while unconscious and feverish, Raoul still managed to put up a good fight. Whenever she wiped his hot forehead with a cool rag, his violent spasms would scare her. When she unwrapped his bandage to give him new dressing, he would shake and quiver like a fish out of water. Piper leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. It had been a very long week.

She was unaware she had fallen asleep until her head dropped onto her chest and she jolted awake. Shaking herself into the land of the waking, she found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes. Blushing, she stood and began needlessly rearranging the bedspread.

"Good morning," she said to Raoul. He nodded to her, like a king graciously allowing a peasant to stand in their presence.

There was a long silence and Piper poured herself a cup of tea to steady her nerves. She took a long sip and calmed her beating heart.

"Is there any particular reason why _I _am in _your_ bed?" Raoul asked, his voice carefully void of any expression. Piper took another sip before answering.

"I was caring for you," she said, turning to look at him. Something flashed across his eyes then, so quickly that Piper couldn't have been sure she saw anything to begin with.

"I do not need caring for," he said, his voice unnecessarily angry.

"Do you remember nothing?" Piper asked, sitting down on the very edge of the bed, balancing her teacup neatly on her lap. He shifted to move farther away from her. The set of his mouth said he did remember--vividly.

"Your concern is misplaced," he said suddenly, glaring at her. "I do not need your help."

"Concern is only misplaced when it is absent," Piper said.

"I would rather have none of your concern at all!" he said, his voice rising steadily.

"Are you too proud to accept my help?"

"I do not need it!"

Piper paused for a moment and then laughed softly. Raoul stared at her.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You," she said gently. "I am not at all afraid of you right now."

Raoul watched as she stood up to stoke the fire. She moved with a fluidity that reminded him of a pure mountain stream, cascading gently to the valley below. In the firelight, she could almost have been called beautiful with the light shining off her hair, but he forced the thoughts out of his mind. She hated him, even if she wasn't afraid anymore.

"You would be wise to be frightened of me," he said. "There are things about me you cannot even begin to fathom."

"I know you are a werewolf," she said quietly and he started. She turned to look at him with sorrowful grey eyes.

"Every night I watched you transform to the huge grey wolf my father saw," she said, "and every morning I watched you become a man again."

His next words flew out in an embarrassing rush. "And yet you are not afraid of me?"

"I am only afraid of what I do not know or understand."

"You claim to understand me?"

"No. But I know, now."

He was bewildered. This girl was far more than he had bargained for. When he had asked the man to bring one of his daughters, he had been expecting a demure, bashful creature with hardly an ounce of sense or wits about her. True, this girl was bashful but there was nothing demure or witless in her manner. He could feel an unmistakable strength in her and she spoke with quiet confidence ... quite unlike when she had first arrived. What had happened?

"Go to sleep," she said. "You are still healing."

He attempted to glare at her but found it quite impossible and obediently closed his eyes.

"My name is Piper," she said softly in his ear and then he fell into the blissful unthinking world of sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you so much to all the reviewers! I was jumping off the walls when I saw people were actually reading my story. ï

**Karli**: Thank you! I'm glad Beauty and the Beast is your favorite fairy tale and that you like my version of it.

Please point out the grammatical and unflowiness mistakes because I bet there are a ton and I need all the help I can get. Just a question ... having never had a beta before, what exactly would you do? I think I'm interested, but maybe you could clear the air a bit about beta-ing.

You made my day. Thanks!

**Aerinha**: I've added three chapters so hopefully you'll be happy!

**TrudiRose**: Yes, she probably should get something to eat. guilty laugh Maybe I should add that, I just kind of wanted to move things along because I have a huge tendency to get bogged down with meaningless stuff. I'm glad you find the characters fascinating despite the Disney version parallels. Thanks for the comments on the characters. "Core of determination" ... brilliant. ; )

**EreshkigalGirl**: Merci. I hope it becomes less carbon copy-ish as it goes along.

**anomaly**: More updates!

**xyz2021**: I'll plug my way through. : )

**Phoebe Holly**: Yay! Another person likes my story! dances around giddily

Now I'm going off to read all of your stories and comment on their brilliance. But once again, thank you for taking the time to read/comment on my story. 'Tis a writer's seventh heaven.

Chapter 7

The old man paused outside the neat wooden door. It was the right house; he was certain of it. He had marked it just this afternoon and there was the little star right above the doorknob. He muttered a few words under his breath and moved his worn hand just a little. The star faded slowly from sight until one never would have known it had been there.

Lifting that same worn hand he knocked three times on the door.

Jeanine examined the clock on the mantel. "It is almost eleven o'clock!" she exclaimed. "Who would be knocking at this hour?"

Veronica looked up from the jewelry she had laid on the table. Piper had been gone only a month or two and yet their family had struck exceedingly good fortune. Mr. Harris had managed to make a considerable amount of money on a risky business venture and had bought his two remaining daughters new gowns and jewelry.

"Perhaps you had better find out?" Veronica said.

"Or perhaps you might." Jeanine glared daggers at her older sister.

"I answered the door this morning when that filthy old beggar woman came knocking," Veronica sniffed. "I shan't answer it again."

Cursing quietly, Jeanine laid down the silver (which she had been shining) and walked to the door. A strange little old man stood at the front stoop, gazing up at her with an odd almost predatory expression in his uncommon lavender eyes. Jeanine was not the type to feel apprehensive about such things, though. She fixed him with a particularly mean glare.

"What do you want?" she asked rudely.

"There are always beasts in the world," the old man said simply, a smile fixed on his lips. It was a smile as strange as the man and Jeanine shivered unconsciously.

"You could hardly have been so stupid to have dragged me all the way out of my warm house to tell me something so ridiculous," Jeanine said. "Be gone! I want you to no more clutter my front stoop."

The old man merely smiled wider. "You have been warned," he said, and with a twirl of his cloak, he was gone. Jeanine stared into the whirling snow for a minute and then closed the door. As she walked back into the almost cozy confines of the parlor, Veronica glanced at her.

"Who was it?" Veronica asked, although it was obvious she did not care one way or the other.

"A strange old man. We are getting some odd visitors lately," Jeanine said. "Ever since--" She stopped and did not continue. She settled down to the silver and after a few minutes, the old man was all but forgotten. Had they perhaps known who he was or why he had appeared at their doorstep he would have been ever present in their thoughts, but as they did not, he vanished as quickly as the snow had come.

_The horrified screams preceded everything else. They watched as he emerged--a wolf now--and drew back in horror. He tried to touch them, to tell them that he was the same inside but they leapt away. _

_"Monster!" they shouted. "Horror! Freak! Demon! Fiend!"_

_"Beast!" _

_The words became an endless chant as they scorned him, shunning him while they packed their bags and left without a backward glance in his direction. Blood was not thicker than water. He stood in pain in his room, the paintbrush flying across the canvas, tears flowing from his face and staining the canvas with the bold, brilliant colors. _

_"There are always beasts in the world." An old man stood in the doorway, laughing, mocking his agony. He lunged for the old man but the floor gave way beneath him and then he was falling, falling, falling ..._

Raoul woke suddenly, pain shooting through his leg. It was not as strong as the pain in his heart that had suddenly sharpened to a dagger pressing against his chest.

"You must have had a nightmare," said a sweet voice next to him and a gentle arm reached underneath his neck, cradling his head against the steady beating of a heart. A cool cloth wiped his forehead but it did not compare to the soft fingers on his cheek. He closed his eyes in the darkness. He had not had the dream in a long time, years perhaps, but the memories were so strong, so vivid ... Even if his mind tried to forget, his heart would not. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and fell into a restless sleep where the words 'monster' and 'beast' echoed forever.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry it's taken so long for me to update! (Although no one is probably reading my story now.) sob, sob I wish I could respond to all the reviewers but I'm in a rush right now so I just say thank you to everyone who bothered to review! And here's chapter 8.

Piper was not in the room when Raoul opened his eyes. The curtains had been pulled open, a thick shaft of sunlight wafting across the floor. It was entirely silent like a tomb but Raoul was used to it. Sitting up in bed, he noticed a figure moving across the snow-covered grounds of the castle. He leaned on his elbow to look out the window and caught a glimpse of auburn hair flashing in the sun.

It was Piper. He could tell even from the distance by the smooth graceful movements and the auburn hair. She threw back her head and twirled around, her hands lifted to the sun. He watched her as she moved across the grounds until she was out of sight, startled by the curiosity he had felt when he saw her.

He leaned back in bed, his head tilted to the ceiling. He felt the unmistakable presence of Tovu and frowned slightly. He did not feel like dealing with the slavish Tovu.

"I see you are awake, master," said Tovu.

Raoul said nothing.

"The girl was out and about without your permission," Tovu said scornfully.

"Her name is Piper," Raoul found himself saying and flinched inwardly. Why had he said that?

It was obvious Tovu was surprised. The man was silent for a long moment and then as if on cue, the door burst open and Piper came in. Raoul looked over at her. The turn across the grounds in the cold had made her cheeks turn a most delightful shade of pink and even Raoul could not ignore the way her eyes were shining. She hung up her wool cloak—Raoul noticed how painfully thin it was—and poured herself a cup of tea on the platter Mrs. Lamphrey had brought in.

"I hope you're feeling well this morning," she said and her voice sang. Raoul frowned; how could the snow do this to someone? He had always loathed the snow, hated the way it isolated him even more. But he loathed spring as well, and summer and autumn. No season ever made him feel complete.

"May I ask where you went this morning to make you feel so elated?" he asked, each word sharp and biting. He knew full well where she had been but she wasn't to know that.

"I took a turn across the grounds," she said, taking no note of his tone as she unwrapped her scarf and set her mittens on the table. Her mittens were in as bad a shape as her cloak and her scarf was in tatters. "I hope you don't mind."

"Why should I? I care nothing for what you do."

He was in a particularly argumentative mood today, Piper knew that much. She could see it in the flinty steel of his eyes and the set of his shoulders. She wondered what had caused him to become so loathing of everyone and everything. Perhaps he was embarrassed about last night and his nightmare while he had been writhing in his wolf form.

Still, something about his stubborn refusal to automatically hate everything had awakened something in Piper, a bravery and heedlessness that made her want to sing and dance through the castle. She had met someone worse off than she and her nature made her want to help him.

"We are paying a visit to the library today," she said and saw his mouth tighten.

"We?" he asked coldly.

"Yes. You and I. It is far too grand a day to be spent in bed."

"I refuse to accompany you."

"You haven't much choice," she said and with a little smile on her face, brought forth a pair of crutches. "Your hurt leg is hardly an argument now and you have not a single excuse as to why you shan't come with me."

"I will not hobble ..."

Piper leaned over, her arms underneath his and with a heave, brought him to his feet. He flailed for a moment before clutching the nightstand and he fixed her with a glare that would have frozen the marrow of her bones before. But the snow had made her curiously giddy and she laughed softly.

"Here are your crutches, Raoul," she said and she did not notice the look that passed across his face when she spoke his name. The steel of his eyes softened imperceptibly and for a moment his face was wistful, longing. Then it disappeared as he snatched away the crutches.

"This is absolutely humiliating," he muttered. "I do not even like the library."

All of the servants wisely stayed out of his way as he and Piper walked slowly to the library. Piper ignored the resentment on his face and the short, terse answers he gave to every question. When they finally arrived at the library, Piper opened the great wooden doors and let out a small gasp.

She had not been expecting such grandeur. When Mrs. Lamphrey had told her about the library she had been imagining a small, quaint room torn apart by the current occupant.

The imaginings were false. The library was well over three stories tall with a huge chamber extending the height and breadth of the library. Thousands upon thousands of books filled every available space and although they were dusty, the library was very well kept. Soft chairs gathered around a fireplace and huge floor-to-ceiling windows (some stained glass) lined the whole side of the wall. Windowseats allowed one to sit and read while the snowflakes fell and a cabinet full of fine china stood in one corner.

Slowly, Piper ran her fingertips across a few of the titles, letting her lips caress each name. She left Raoul, who was watching her with a very odd look on his face. As he slowly passed the shelves, a tentative finger reached out and touched a single book as if he was afraid it would break. Piper appeared suddenly at his shoulder and his hand flew back. She looked at him curiously and lifted the volume.

"_The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_ by Mark Twain," she read and looked up at him. It was then she noticed the odd, intense expression in his eyes. "I have never heard of it," she said.

"It has not yet been written," he said.

Piper was puzzled. "If it has not yet been written, why is it among your books?"

His eyes skimmed across the hundreds of shelves. "Every book that will ever be written is here," he said.

She turned the book over in her hands. "And this is one of those?"

"Aye."

"May I read it to you?"

His head snapped up and the expression in his eyes plainly showed his suspicion of her sincerity. But Piper was in earnest. In this library she had seen more humanity in his behavior than in the whole time she had known him thus far.

"It is long," he said doubtfully.

She laughed lightly. "I assure you, I have the time. Come." Distrust in his eyes, he followed her to the fireplace where he sat in one of the soft chairs. She sat on the floor, her skirt spreading out in a circle around her. With gentle fingers, she opened the book and read the opening words, soon becoming immersed in the world of Tom, Huck, and Becky.


	9. Chapter 9

I know, I know, two updates in two days! Wow, I'm on a role. .:bows:. Thank you, thank you, thank you to Karli and TrudiRose for reviewing so quickly. I love you guys! Thanks for pointing out my (many) mistakes. Please, find more!

Well, here's chappy 9. Woohoo! (Be prepared, it's very corny.)

It was easy for the old man to find the castle; he had been there many times before and his feet knew the paths well. The iron gates loomed over his stooped form but he paid them no mind. With surprising ease, he pushed the gates open and closed them neatly behind him.

His footprints were instantly filled with snow as he walked so that one would have doubted he had ever been that way before.

He stopped at the rosebush and eyed the empty branch thoughtfully, one gnarled finger placed upon his lips. He looked up at the castle, a slight smile tilting the corners of his mouth, but it was not a kind smile. With a wave of his hand, a huge black raven now stood where the old man had been. A deep, hoarse caw rose in its throat as it flew into the air, aiming for a window that had been thoughtlessly left open.

Piper jumped as the clock chimed six and Raoul saw the half-dazed expression in her eyes that is always present when someone is pulled brutally from the world of a book they have just been reading.

"Six o'clock?" she said, her voice a confused whisper. "I had no idea it was that late."

Six o'clock? Raoul's eyes flew to the grandfather clock across the room and a little shiver of terror ran down his spine. In just an hour he would become the wolf he hated more than anything else in the world. He fumbled with the crutches, cursing under his breath as he stood with much difficulty. Piper set the book on the table, watching him. One slender hand reached out hesitantly as if to help.

"I do not need your help!" he snarled at her, yanking back before she could touch him. She shrank a little but her eyes met his evenly.

"Very well," she said. "As you wish."

She stood unmoving as he struggled with the horrible crutches; more than once a hot flush rose to his cheeks, the first time in a long time he had felt so embarrassed. With a final growl of anger he managed to balance himself evenly before taking a shaky step. The humiliation of the past few minutes finally caught up to him and he wanted nothing more than to go to his own room and tear some stick of furniture to shreds.

But Piper had other ideas. She steered him firmly back to her own room and despite his protests, forced him into bed, showing surprising strength for one so small. His skin seemed to burn where she touched him and he was confused as to why the sensation was strangely pleasant.

"Ring if you need anything," she said and suddenly the soft grey eyes were very close and he could smell her hair—it smelled of roses—and see the little sprinkling of freckles aross her cheeks. He looked up at her and for a moment he was staring straight into those eyes and time halted.

"Good night," she said briskly and then she was gone and Raoul cursed his weakness. Why did she vex him so, yet every word she spoke seemed to burn into his memory? Why was he so confused?

Piper was shaking. She had never been so close to a man before in her life; why had she leaned down so far anyway? It was not proper for her to have been near him, close enough to see the fear in his dark eyes, the fear he tried desperately to mask.

She was so preoccupied in wishing she had maintained a suitable distance that she almost ran over a short little old man in the middle of the hallway.

"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she said, taking a step back.

"I knew not there was a girl in the castle," he said and his voice grated oddly. Piper suddenly became aware of how very quiet it was.

"I have just arrived," she said and her voice became timid. "May I ask who you are?"

"I am no one of consequence," said the old man and Piper realized his eyes were a strange lavender color. She took another step backward.

"Everyone is of consequence," she said. The man advanced, his eyes glittering.

"Even beasts?" he whispered and Piper paled.

"I know no beasts," she said and her voice shook only a little.

"There are always beasts in the world," he said simply and smirked. "Selfish, uncaring beasts ..."

"They are only beasts if they think of themselves as such."

His eyebrows raised and one gnarled finger stroked his cheek. "We shall see about that," he said and suddenly he wasn't there anymore and a giant crow's silhouette was framed against an open window. Shivering, Piper ran to the window and shut it, sliding to the floor. Who was that man? What was he doing in the castle? He spoke as if he had been here before. Perhaps she ought to ask Raoul ...

As if on cue, a tremendous crash came from the direction of her room. Without stopping to think, Piper leapt to her feet and ran down the hall, gathering her cumbersome skirts in her hands. Throwing open the door, she found a great grey wolf madly slamming his body against the window. The glass had already shattered, staining the grey coat with blood. The bars against the window prevented Raoul from getting out but he paid no heed to that, nor to the blood or his maimed leg.

"Raoul!" Piper screamed.

"Piper!" Mrs. Lamphrey reached to grab the girl's skirt but Piper had moved toward Raoul. The wolf turned halfway and Piper met the cold, unfeeling, wicked eyes. The wolf had completely taken control of him.

"Please stop," Piper begged, tears flowing down her face. Her hands reached out to him, pleading.

"You let him in." Raoul's voice was as cold as ice; there was no compassion or sympathy or even a mote of human kindness.

"I don't know who you're talking about," Piper said and her voice trembled.

"The wizard!" Raoul screamed and suddenly the desk was flying at her. Piper ducked and it splintered on the wall behind her head. The fear was very strong in her eyes, fear that had disappeared for a few weeks.

"Raoul, please!" Piper pleaded, ducking to avoid the glass that shattered above her as an expensive vase joined the fate of the desk.

"Don't play the innocent with me," he snarled. "You knew who he was and that is why you let him in because you knew what he could do." The great grey wolf paced back and forth, his eyes gleaming in cold fury. Piper was on her knees, quivering like a leaf as she watched him.

"I don't know who he is," she whispered. He whirled around.

"You pretend to be ignorant but I know you are not," he said coldly. "You cannot live in this horrible place and be ignorant."

She stood slowly, taking a step forward, her eyes holding his. "Tell me who he is," she said, softly.

"He is the bearer of misery and the maker of pain," Raoul said and his eyes were suddenly filled with a deep sadness. His body seemed to sag, carrying his pain with it. Piper took another step forward. Nothing was thrown at her and she took another hesitant step, holding his eyes.

"Why?" Piper asked.

"Because he took away my life for the sake of his pleasure and enjoyment," Raoul said viciously and for a moment his eyes were flashing with hatred and animosity, raging fire deep within his soul. Then it was gone and suddenly the wolf-man looked years older, as if he had aged a hundred years in just a few moments.

Piper said nothing; what could she say? She reached his side and hesitating only a moment, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against the coarse blood-stained fur.

Raoul very nearly jumped out of his skin. He was not expecting this, nor had he ever predicted it would happen. He had tried to kill her; why would she be touching him? But now a peculiar sensation was running through his body, not entirely unpleasant. The rose-scented hair brushed against his nose and he felt oddly lightheaded.

"He has not taken away all of your life," she said quietly, and looked at him with sorrowful grey eyes.

Raoul laughed bitterly. "What has he left me?"

He watched her, waiting to see what she would say. His whole body was tense with anticipation, more than he would ever admit. He looked down into the beautiful grey eyes and watched in surprise as she smiled.

"He has left you your heart," she said and laid her hand lightly over his heart, her skin burning his fur.

She didn't know and he couldn't even suspect, but from that moment forth, Raoul's heart was no longer his.

It belonged to a girl named Piper.


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all my reviewers! I can't tell you how happy I am that people are actually reading my story! Let's see if we can get to the big five-oh for reviews ... please, please.

em

Chapter 10

Winter was its wild, ferocious peak. The fierce, unforgiving month of November had melted into blizzardy December and with it came Christmas, the holiday Raoul hated more than any other. It was on Christmas Eve that the old man had come by and it was on Christmas Day that Raoul had discovered the 'gift' the old man had given to him.

And it was Christmas Day that his family had left him to the mercy of the castle, the roses, and the indescribable despair.

He used to ignore Christmas, dreading the days of December, and violently forbidding the servants from celebrating the holiday in any way, shape, or form. They had obeyed him quickly and without question but he knew well that they missed it. Still, he could not have them being happy when he could not ever have what they did.

Mrs. Lamphrey knew it and tried on many occasions to tell Piper but the girl did not pick up on hints. Or maybe, Mrs. Lamphrey thought reflectively, she didn't want to pick up on hints.

One morning in early December, Piper came in bearing a wreath of pine branches. Raoul looked up from where he had been sitting by the window. He had taken to moving about restlessly whenever Piper was gone but his movement was severly limited by his leg. Mrs. Lamphrey saw his shoulders tense and his mouth tighten and looked desperately to Piper.

"Good morning," Piper said. She set the wreath on a chair and began unwrapping her scarf.

"What's that _thing_?" Raoul asked with a tone of utmost revulsion.

"A wreath."

"I _know_ that. What is it doing in here?"

Piper knelt by the fire and warmed her hands, keeping her back turned to Raoul. He watched her, fighting between his innate desire to hate everything and the curious little bubble of something strange that rose in his throat every time he saw her.

"I noticed there is a lack of festivity and I thought ..."

"There is a lack of festivity because I wanted it to be that way." His voice was rising uncontrollably.

Piper turned halfway and the firelight caught her auburn hair and made it glow. She was silent for a long moment and then she stood.

"I shan't keep it if you don't want it," she said. She pulled on her cloak and was almost out the door with wreath in hand when:

"Wait!"

Piper looked back. Raoul had been struggling and the word had passed his lips before he even realized what he had been saying. But he could not go back, not now when he had seen the hope light her grey eyes.

"Yes?"

"Perhaps you may ... keep the wreath. But just the wreath! Nothing else."

"Thank you," she said and ran over to him. She kissed his cheek lightly, like a snowflake's touch, and before Raoul even knew what had happened, she was out the door and gone, leaving only the memory.

Slowly, furtively, Raoul reached up and touched his burning cheek. Realizing what he was doing, his hand flew down and he buried himself in his book, trying to forget her sparkling grey eyes or the smell of her skin.

Across the room, Tovu watched his master, a frown deepening his invisible face. He had hoped there would be an argument, that Raoul would have forced down the girl's unquenchable spirit. But he hadn't known how great a hold the girl had on his master.

Perhaps his master had fallen in love.

No, thought Tovu. No. The master could not fall in love. If he did, that would release the hold Tovu had on his spirit, relinquish the control Tovu had over his master's dark thoughts. The spell could be broken. Tovu's eyes narrowed. No, the spell could not be broken. He would see to that. He would make sure the girl did not love the master. If the girl did not love the master, it would break the master's heart and then Tovu would be in control again.

"I must do something," Tovu murmured to himself and then left, leaving Mrs. Lamphrey alone with the master.

Slowly Mrs. Lamphrey advanced and set to work making the bed. Raoul had stopped reading the book and was staring out the window at the falling snow, his dark eyes distant.

"Are you quite comfortable, master?" Mrs. Lamphrey asked, breaking the silence. He started a little and then turned in her direction.

"Oh, yes, yes." Then, with great difficulty: "Thank you."

Now it was Mrs. Lamphrey's turn to jump and she was glad, for a moment, that she was invisible so the master could not have seen the look of surprise that crossed her face.

"You're welcome, master," she said and Raoul could not have failed to hear the respect in her voice.

There was another long silence. Raoul shifted to make himself more comfortable and turned toward where he thought Mrs. Lamphrey was.

"I hope she does not think she can bring in more Christmas," he said but there was no conviction in his voice.

"Of course, master."

"You will tell her so?"

"Yes, master."

"Good."

Silence. The clock above the mantle ticked loudly in the stillness.

"How many years will it have been, Mrs. Lamphrey?"

Both the question and that he had called her by name surprised Mrs. Lamphrey.

"One hundred and eight, master," she said.

"Yes, of course. One hundred and eight." She saw the sadness in his eyes. "'Tis a long time."

"Yes, master."

"Perhaps I am beyond ever loving or being loved."

His voice was heavy, weighed down with a hundred griefs that Mrs. Lamphrey could never know but some of which she had experienced. To both their surprise, she answered fiercely:

"No one is ever beyond love, master. Piper would tell you the very same thing."

"Piper," he repeated and Mrs. Lamphrey heard his voice become gentle and his eyes soften imperceptibly. In that moment, Mrs. Lamphrey knew. She had suspected it for a few weeks now, ever since Piper had told him he still had a heart. But now she knew it with a woman's surety, before Raoul himself even knew.

Raoul loved Piper. It was there in his face, in his eyes, in every line of his body and still he didn't know.

"She enjoys Christmas, doesn't she?" Raoul said and his hands tightened with the pain of speaking.

"Yes, master, I believe she does."

"Would she—do you think she—I want her to be happy." There was uncertainty and hesitance in his face as if he was unsure of what to do or say. For a minute, his heart was laid out on the table and Mrs. Lamphrey saw a timid and frightened part of the master that she had never seen before and she loved him for it, as a mother loves her child.

"As do I, master," she said gently.

"If you celebrate Christmas, would she be happy?"

"Yes," Mrs. Lamphrey said, and knew it would be so.


	11. Chapter 11

Yes, I know, two updates in one day. I astound myself sometimes. Thank you, TrudiRose, for reviewing so quickly and faithfully. I hope it doesn't turn out like that beastly "Enchanted Christmas" movie ... The first bit might be a little too much like it but I hope it ends up different enough for you.

Chapter 11

Had you visited the castle two weeks later, you would hardly have recognized the place. At first, the servants were more than a little frightened of the master's declaration to have them celebrate Christmas; it was not like him at all. But gradually, as they watched Piper move about fearlessly hanging wreaths or red ribbons or candles, they warmed to the idea until Piper could not go anywhere without having some sort of decoration handed shyly to her. It was a different castle and Raoul was not quite sure whether he liked it or not. His natural hermit tendencies cried out against the outrage but something else made him stop and look at the boughs of holly for a long time when he thought no one was watching.

He still wanted to maintain some shred of dignity and so he stubbornly refused to have anything to do with the job of decorating. Piper had asked if he wanted to hang the wreaths so many times that he had gotten quite gruff and yelled at her. Instead, he sat in her room and read for hours on end or paced the halls looking for everything and nothing at the same time. The feeling of longing, which had been numbed for all those years, was sharper than ever, as if a knife was pressed to his heart and he tried all sorts of ways to assuage it. Nothing worked ... except for when he saw Piper. Then the pain dissipated though he tried hard to mask any change of attitude. The only problem was that the yearning came back tenfold whenever she left. He hated it, but it seemed as though there was nothing he could do.

"I am growing soft," he growled into the darkness late one night after a particularly painful transformation. Piper had long since fallen asleep and he could hear her soft breathing.

"Aye, master," said a voice in the darkness. Raoul sat up abruptly, his wolf ears picking up on the slight vibrations of the floor as the shadow-figure moved closer.

"Tovu?" he asked although he was not quite sure.

"Aye, master."

"Where have you been? I have not seen you in nearly a fortnight."

"I am sorry, master. I was otherwise occupied."

A strange, cold chill ran down Raoul's back but he was not certain why. It was just Tovu, subservient, slavish Tovu.

"The castle is unrecognizable, master."

"It was Piper's doing."

"You let her?"

"You would have had me stop her?" Raoul's voice lowered to a growl deep in his throat. His glowing eyes penetrated the darkness but it was useless; he could not have seen Tovu anyway.

"It is not like you, master."

"And it is not like you to question my judgement."

"I'm sorry, master."

But Tovu did not sound sorry and Raoul knew it. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling horribly exposed and vulnerable.

"I would advise you leave for the night, Tovu," Raoul said, his voice low, "before I do something I will regret later."

"A wise thought, master. I bid you leave."

Raoul heard the servant go but the odd feeling of forboding did not leave with him. Slowly, Raoul leaned back and waited for sleep to claim him.

-----------

Somewhere deep within the bowels of the castle, the old man waited. He was used to waiting; waiting was a part of his life. He turned a small mirror around in his hands. It was a simple thing without ornate decorations, a little oaken mirror with a rose engraved on the handle.

He heard the soft chiming of midnight and smiled. The mirror would do its duty well; it had been bewitched with a spell that allowed the user to see anything their heart desired. Piper would find and want to see her family even when considering how badly they had treated her. She was that kind of a young woman and the old man knew it. As soon as she saw their plight, his plan would fall into place, a plan designed to bring misery to everyone involved.

Except himself.

With a gentle wave of his hand, the mirror floated quietly down the halls, past darkened rooms and closed doors until it arrived by a door where an invisible manservant stood watch. It hesitated for a moment and then fell to the lushly carpeted floor with a soft thud. The manservant picked it up and carried it into the room, setting it by Piper's outstretched hand where she would be sure to see it when she woke.

Softly, Tovu backed out of the room. He had done his part; the mirror had been delivered. Now all he had to do was wait. He was used to waiting.

---------------

It was early morning when Piper woke; the sun had scarcely risen in the crystalline sky. She lay on the cot for a long moment, staring up at the carved ceiling. She loved the morning because it afforded her a little time to herself, a time to sit and think. She sat up quietly and looked at Raoul. He was still in wolf-form but as the sun's gentle morning rays fell across the bed, he melted into a human. The transformation was not a pretty sight; Raoul writhed and squirmed on the bed as he became human again. Then it was over and he lay still.

Piper sighed. She was getting used to it though it still pained her to see the transformation. What kind of man would allow someone to undergo such brutal torture every morning and evening for over a hundred years? It was no wonder to her that Raoul had become bitter and distrusting of the world.

With another deep sigh, Piper stretched and her hand hit something solid. She looked over and saw a little hand mirror. Curious, she picked it up. It was not lavish, not at all what she expected to see in the castle. She turned it over in her hands. It was engraved with a rose—the coat of arms—so it must belong to Raoul. How it had ended up by her cot she was uncertain but if it was Raoul's he would want it back. She stood and set it on the bedside table and then changed into her thin muslin for her brisk morning walk.

"You ought to wear the green gown today," Mrs. Lamphrey said quietly in her ear, making her jump.

"What green gown?" Piper asked.

"Mrs. Thomas thought you looked quite fetching in green and so she sewed you a gown to wear. 'Tisn't lavish but it is very flattering."

"Where is this gown?" Piper's voice was somewhat apprehensive.

Mrs. Lamphrey beckoned behind her and to Piper, the gown materialized as if from nowhere. Piper gasped.

"I couldn't wear that, Mrs. Lamphrey! Tis too grand for me."

"Please, child. It would make us all very happy. At least try it on."

Slowly, Piper took the dress and changed, feeling as though she were putting on new skin. It was a dark green dress, beautiful and shimmering silk, as though it was made from water. The bodice was embroidered with tiny green roses and the cloth fell quite becomingly off Piper's shoulders. Piper turned around for Mrs. Lamphrey, eyeing the sleeping Raoul the whole time.

"I shan't wear it today, Mrs. Lamphrey. Perhaps for Christmas Day?" Piper said though she loved the feeling of the silk on her skin.

"You must dance in it, Piper! You must!"

"And when shall I dance? Surely Raoul is not one for such entertainments?" She took off the dress and put on her old scratchy muslin, hanging the dress gently in her closet.

Mrs. Lamphrey deflated. It was true. The master did not care for such trivial things. But still, she was determined that Piper dance in the dress. Raoul must have every chance fo seeing her in her ethereal beauty.

Piper excused herself and went on her walk, wanting, to her shame, to feel the silk against her skin again.

----------------

The first thing Raoul saw when he opened his eyes was the little mirror on the bedside table. It was not familiar to him so he assumed it must be Piper's. It was the kind of mirror she would have—simple, honest, and beautiful. He lifted it and gazed into the glass. Eyes as dark as ivory stared back at him in a face that once knew laughter but had long since forgotten how to smile. He was about to put it away for he hated mirrors, when a slight shifting _inside_ the glass made him pause. As he watched, his face faded until he was looking into a surface white as snow. There was a pause and then suddenly Piper was in the glass, walking through the snow, her eyes bright with excitement and passion for life. He would have thrown it across the room and watched it shatter in satisfaction had it not been for the image in the glass. He gently touched the auburn curls and his face twisted bitterly. Would that be the only time he would ever touch her? Through the cold, impersonal glass of a mirror? But he could not look away; she had him transfixed. Every movement seemed graceful, even when she tripped and fell in the snow. He watched her lay back, laughing as she made an angel in the snow.

Raoul leaned back in bed. What else could this mirror show him? Surely it was magic though he wondered why he had never seen it before. Gazing into the mirror he searched for something else to 'watch'. Finally he said, "Kitchen," for he could not thing of anything else to say. The mirror faded into white and then suddenly he was watching pots and pans bang about as the servants prepared the morning meal.

He stared at it for a long time, saying random rooms in the big castle to see if it was more than a fluke. The mirror was showing him the ballroom when:

"How are you this morning, Raoul?"

He turned over the mirror lightning quick and looked up at Piper.

"Fine," he said gruffly, embarrassed to be caught, though he didn't quite know why.

She hung her cloak above the fire and stood staring at him for a long moment. He met the soft grey eyes after a minute.

"I have been thinking," she said. "Christmas Day is in two days' time." So soon? Raoul wanted anything but Christmas. "I thought we might have Christmas dinner together."

Raoul's head snapped back so fast it hurt. He stared at her, trying to gather his thoughts. Dinner? They had not eaten together at all since she had been here. Her first day's angry rebuff still rang true. Did she truly think he had changed? Anxiety replaced his initial shock. What if he did not live up to her expectations? He could not bear to disappoint her.

"Raoul?"

The sound of her voice drew him back to the present. Struggling to maintain a level of relative calm he said: "It would be a pleasure."


	12. Chapter 12

Many thanks to my reviewers. I love you all (tee hee). Anyway, sit back and enjoy.

Chapter 12

Jeanine turned a full, slow circle, letting the light catch every thread of her precious red silk dress. The seamstress nodded with satisfaction; she was a wise woman and would not show anything but satisfaction for Miss Jeanine. She had learned_ that _very quickly.

"It is very becoming, is it not?" Jeanine said.

"Oh yes, Miss Jeanine! I do declare you will be the most beautiful woman in the country. Not that you aren't already," the seamstress added hastily, rectifying her error.

"I shall be in next week for another fitting for my blue silk," Jeanine said, allowing the seamstress to undress her and carefully bundle the gown into a package. "I will pay you amply if you satisfy me." She deposited a few pounds in the woman's hand and swept out the door.

Veronica was waiting in the carriage, examining her perfect nails. Life since Piper's absence had treated them very well; their father's business had fairly skyrocketed and they were receiving money faster than they could spend it. They had almost forgotten about their sister, and completely forgotten about the old man who had visited them in their sad shack one cold winter's night only a month back. They had moved to a large manor in the city and moved in only the best social circles.

"Where is Father?" Jeanine asked as she entered the carriage, adjusting the beautiful dress on her lap so it wouldn't wrinkle.

"He wanted to stop and get a new hat," Veronica said, not looking up. "He should be back in a moment."

As if on cue, Mr. Harris appeared around the corner, carrying his new hat snugly under his arm. He had almost reached the carriage when suddenly, without warning, he keeled over, falling onto the cobblestone street.

"Father!" Jeanine screamed. If he died, there would be no money ….

"Mr. Harris!" The coachman leapt down to help his master who was now shaking convulsively, his whole body in a seizure of pain. Jeanine watched in horror as his face became white as the snow that still blanketed the ground and he went limp. The coachman heaved up her father's limp form and set him in the carriage.

"We must go to the doctor," he said, his face almost as white as Mr. Harris's. "He's still breathing but who knows how long that will last."

He climbed aboard and shouted to the horses. As the carriage clattered off, Veronica looked at Jeanine, white to the lips. She realized exactly what her sister did. If their father died, life as they knew it would cease to exist.

----------------------------

Christmas dinner. Raoul could not stop thinking about it. As Christmas Day came and went, he became more nervous as the hour drew nearer. What if he humiliated himself? What if his manners were so poor that she could not bear eating with him ever again? He was used to wolfing—he cringed at the pun—down his meals in the solitude of his chambers, which he had now moved back into. The gloom and darkness used to satiate his urge for unhappiness and misery but now he wished he was anywhere but there. More particularly, he wished he was still in Piper's sunlit, joyful room. He thought he would be delighted to return to his den, so to speak, with its broken glass and shattered dreams but it hadn't happened. He was miserable and uneasy.

The canvas, still portraying the worst moments of his life, hung untouched in the center of the room. He avoided looking at it; the dagger of pain was still pointed at his heart.

"What are you planning on wearing tonight, master?" Tovu's voice startled Raoul out of his reverie. Embarrassed to be caught dwelling on unpleasant memories, he turned to the manservant angrily.

"I thought it was usually your custom to knock before you entered," he snarled. He would have thrown something but restrained himself; Piper would not be inclined to dine with him if she knew.

"I'm sorry, master. I just thought you would like some help. If you don't mind me saying so, master, it has been a great many years since you have wooed a woman."

Raoul flushed. "I am not wooing her," he muttered but he had to admit Tovu was right. The last woman he ever remembered was a princess of something-or-other and she had hardly been impressed with him—other than his status, of course. Fighting hard, he buried his pride and opened his closet doors wide. "Well, Tovu, I confess you are right. I am in desperate need of your assistance."

There was a silence as Tovu digested this information, this wonder that Raoul had admitted he was in the wrong. It had never happened before. Tovu looked at Raoul, a frown in his eyes. This girl was having more influence on the master than he had thought. He only hoped it was not too late.

"You will look nice in the navy," Tovu said and so began the arduous process of selecting clothes.

--------------------------

No less nervous, Piper paced the length of her bedroom floor, the green silk dress rippling around her. It was four thirty, only half an hour until she would eat with Raoul for the first time since she had been here. How long had it been? She paused, trying to count the months. The days had run together so that she had lost track of time and Raoul kept no calendars about the castle; it only reminded him of the all the time lost to the curse.

Raoul … Piper's eyes softened. She had not thought it possible that he could change, even in the smallest degree, but it had happened. Subtly, carefully, but he had begun to change. Of course, he wasn't a polite, calm, mild-mannered man by any stretch of the imagination, but he tried. She knew he sincerely tried; she could see it in his eyes. Those cold dark eyes had now begun to soften, to open up a gentle part of him that she had not seen before, a part of Raoul desperate to please and to be accepted. Still, there was something else in his eyes that worried her. She had pretended to ignore it at first, that slight longing that flickered in his eyes for a split second when she would walk into the room, and she knew he tried to hide it, but it could not be brushed away. More than that, there was something deeper that she could not quite place her finger on whenever he looked at her.

Shaking herself, she stood by the window, gazing out onto the grounds. She never thought she would see the day when she actually enjoyed being in the castle. It was a change from the cruel existence of her life before when her family had treated her so abominably … no, she thought, that wasn't right. They were not abominable people and she still longed to see them, to let them know she was all right. She still believed they cared a little for her. Just a little. There must be some degree of affection for her in their hearts.

A knock on the door made her jump and she crossed the room, opening it. She heard Mrs. Lamphrey gasp.

"Why, Piper, you are simply breath-taking! You look absolutely lovely."

Piper blushed. "Surely you are exaggerating," she said.

"No, my dear, I most certainly am not. But nevermind that. We have a marvelous dinner prepared for you and an orchestra and the ballroom is decorated—"

"Ballroom?" Piper halted, eyeing Mrs. Lamphrey's general direction suspiciously. "Why is the ballroom decorated?"

"I thought you would dance—"

"Dance! With whom?"

"The master."

"Raoul would sooner cut out his heart than dance with me. I know him that well."

Mrs. Lamphrey smiled to herself in the secret of invisibility. "You would be surprised, child," she murmured to herself, looking at Piper with all the affection of a mother. "You would be surprised."

Piper was trembling with anxiety, nervousness, fear, and another emotion difficult to place by the time she reached the top of the great staircase. She turned to Mrs. Lamphrey.

"Am I doing right, Mrs. Lamphrey? What if he goes on one of his rages?" She looked up at the kindly housekeeper, her eyes pleading. "I'm frightened."

"Oh, child," Mrs. Lamphrey said and enveloped Piper in her arms. "He would never hurt you now."

"Will you be there?"

"Yes, dear. I will."

Slowly, Piper turned, took a deep breath and emerged at the head of the great staircase. She laid one shaking hand on the bannister and took a step forward, feeling strangely as if she were moving toward her destiny.

---------------------------------

Raoul was standing at the foot of the stairs, wringing his hands when he heard a small cough from Tovu. Turning, he looked up and his eyes locked on Piper.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She wore a green silk dress he had never seen before; it was tasteful and becoming but not so revealing as some he had seen others wear. Her deep auburn hair fairly glowed in the soft light and her face reminded of an angel—sweet and kind and gentle. He could not take his eyes from her and every step seemed to echo in his heartbeat. She came closer, closer, until she was standing right above him and he could smell the tantalizing aroma of her hair.

"Merry Christmas," she said and her voice broke the spell. He flushed deeply, horrified to be caught staring at her in such a forward way, and offered her his arm.

"You look beautiful," he said and his face reddened again. He avoided looking at her as she slipped her arm in his.

"Thank you," she replied and her eyes sparkled. "You are looking quite fine this evening as well."

"Thank you."

There was a long silence as he led her to the table and pulled out her chair. He sat down opposite her at the end of the oak table, feeling as if the silence was pressing down on him. The invisible servants set down the first course: a delicious, thick, creamy soup. But Raoul could scarcely take a bite. His eyes kept drifting down the table to Piper despite his best efforts. He was dreadfully uncomfortable and his hands shook as he lifted his spoon. After a minute he set his spoon down and was surprised to see Piper by his side.

"Would you care to dance with me?" she asked.

The whole room waited with bated breath. Raoul stared up into her soft grey eyes and cleared his throat.

"I would be delighted," he said and took her hand.

She guided him to the ballroom floor, her hand soft and warm in his. When she reached the center of the massive room, she turned to him, set her hand on his shoulder and caught his free hand with hers.

"I have not danced in quite some time," he said, stalling, desperately trying not to notice her nearness. She was so close he could see the slight sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks, hardly visible in the soft light.

She laughed, a light, musical sound and he wanted her to laugh again. "Neither have I," she said. "But shall we?"

The orchestra, whose instruments had long been forgotten, began to play. Mrs. Lamphrey had instructed the maestro to choose the most romantic music he could find and he had not failed her. As the sweet melodies of a waltz began soaring through the room, there was not a servant in the place who wasn't watching the two fly across the floor, lost in their own world of sound and light and, Mrs. Lamphrey thought happily, love.


	13. Chapter 13

Another chapter. Yay! This one's kind of short but it helps move things along … a lot of parallels to Disney's B&tB. Sorry 'bout that. 

Chapter 13

There were stars in her eyes, Raoul thought, gazing down at her. He had long forgotten that there was anyone else in the room; the orchestra was merely instruments playing by themselves. He would not have looked at her like that if he had remembered. Her eyes had locked on his and she was like a fairy in his arms, a piece of another world that he had never experienced before. He wanted nothing more than to hold her forever and dance the night away.

But the music ended and he was left hanging. They did not stop dancing immediately; even Piper seemed to be feeling the magic that wound in and between them and they stopped gradually, her eyes still fixed on his. Without a word he offered her his arm and they walked slowly towards the great window.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice mystical in the quiet stillness. He looked at her and suddenly, more than anything, wanted to kiss her. As he watched her in the growing darkness, the feeling intensified and he turned away, not wanting to shatter the moment with his human desires.

Human desires—and suddenly he remembered and his eyes flew to the great grandfather clock at the end of the hall. With relief, he saw that it was not yet six o'clock and he still had an hour before the horrible transformation.

"Are you happy?" he asked suddenly. He felt her eyes turn to him but he didn't dare look at her. And if she said she wasn't? What would he do then?

"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "I am." She hesitated for a moment and then: "But I would like to see my family once again."

Though unbidden, the memory of the mirror flew to his mind. It was in his back pocket; he was afraid to leave it alone for fear one of the servants would find it. It was an irrational fear for they had nothing to want to do with it, but he was more particularly concerned about Tovu who had begun to act suspiciously lately.

As if of its own accord, his hand moved to his pocket and withdrew the mirror. He handed it to Piper who looked at him curiously, her head tilted slightly to the side.

"'Tis a magic mirror of sorts," he said. "It will show you anything you desire."

Realization dawned on her face as she looked at it. She swallowed and spoke clearly: "I would like to see my family, please."

There was the familiar whitening and then suddenly, an image appeared in the glass. An older gentleman was lying on a long, luxurious bed, as still as death and white as snow. Two young women who bore a small resemblance to Piper were sitting by his side, each holding a motionless hand.

Piper gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. Raoul felt a strange sinking sensation in his stomach and his throat tightened as he recognized the man as Piper's father.

"He is deathly ill," she whispered, her face white. "He is on his deathbed."

Raoul cleared his throat. He felt oddly detached and drained as if he had just run a long distance. "You will want to see him," he said, looking at the mirror and the motionless figure.

"Please," she breathed and his eyes met hers. He saw the shimmer of tears in her soft grey eyes and then watched as a single tear marked a trail down her cheek. He knew then that he loved her, that he would do anything for her, give his life even, if it would make her happy. Slowly he reached up and brushed the tear from her cheek, his fingers savoring the smooth warmth of her skin, a warmth he would never feel again, a touch that made his soul burn. His fingertips lingered for a moment longer and then his hand dropped to his side.

Or it would have, had Piper not caught it in midair, her hands closing around his. She stared up at him, her eyes pleading for his permission. He would give it, he knew he would; he could not deny her anything.

"Hurry back, Piper," he said quietly. Her breath caught in her throat; his heart clenched inside his chest.

"I will," she said. "I will be back in two weeks."

"Aye," he whispered.

"Thank you," she said and her arm reached around his neck and she kissed him and it was as if a butterfly had landed for a moment on his lips, a butterfly that would never be forgotten if he lived for a thousand years.

And then she was gone with a sweep of green silk and a breath of fresh air and a memory of a first kiss.

Raoul turned to look out the window, his movements robotic and unnatural. Mrs. Lamphrey rushed up to him; she had seen the kiss and thought only the best. But before she could say anything, Raoul spoke.

"She is gone," he said mechanically. Mrs. Lamphrey stared at him. "Her father is almost dead and she must see him. She said she would be back in two weeks but she will forget me in that time and never come back to me again." His voice broke and he turned to Mrs. Lamphrey, his dark eyes tortured with the pain of a hundred years. "I love her," he whispered, "but I let her go."

For the first time in her life, Mrs. Lamphrey reached to him and drew him into her arms. He leaned against her and allowed himself to be a boy again, when it was all right to cry.


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry it took me so long to update, guys! I kind of went off the story for a little while (okay, a LONG while) but hopefully this will satiate your hunger. (Mwahaha! Whatever.) This is kind of a pointless chapter and really exceedingly stupid, but oh well! I'll try to update more.

Chapter 14

"Two weeks is a long time, master."

"Aye."

"Much can happen in two weeks."

"Aye."

"Things can be forgot …"

"She will not forget, Tovu! Do not listen to him, master. Piper will not forget you. She is not that kind of a person."

"No, she is not."

"Master, you look exhausted. Let me help you to bed. Things always look better in the morning."

"Indeed, Mrs. Lamphrey."

"It is two weeks …"

"Hush, Tovu! Please do not worry, master. It is only the first day. She has not forgotten."

"Of course. Piper will not forget."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

To describe the looks on Veronica's and Jeanine's faces when their supposedly 'long lost' sister came walking into their father's bedroom is impossible. They were speechless for a full five minutes—a definite feat when considering their personalities. They could have been described as happy to see her but that would be only because Piper was a natural healer and the faster their father got better, the quicker they could return to life as they knew it.

Theywere pleasant to Piper. Curiosity was one of the big reasons. They wanted to know why their little sister looked so lovely, why she was less timid, why she had returned—and what the castle was like. They waited a few days, and when Piper didn't volunteer any information, took it upon themselves to pry it out of her.

"I'm sure we have nothing so fine here as at your castle, Piper," Jeanine said, lifting a silver knife to delicately cut her meat. Piper smiled a little.

"It is not my castle, but yes, it is very fine," she said.

"Even with the beast?"

Piper stiffened. "I do not know what you are talking about," she said, her voice strained.

Veronica looked surprised. "Why, the beast at the castle! The wolf-man Papa saw. Surely he treats you monstrously. However did you manage to escape?"

"He is no beast and he treats me better than any man I have ever known. I did not escape; he let me go."

Jeanine raised her eyebrows. "Papa said he was cruel."

"He was, at the beginning. But then he changed." Piper's voice softened and her eyes became distant and gentle, as if gazing upon a quietly sleeping baby. Her sisters exchanged glances.

"I see you have changed a little yourself," Veronica said, breaking the silence. Piper blushed a little.

"Yes, I have."

"You look lovely."

"Thank you."

"Perhaps you should come to a little ball tonight with us," Jeanine offered. "I'm sure it would do us all a ton of good to be out of the house for a few hours."

"I don't think Papa should be left alone."

"Oh come now, Piper, 'tis the first ball after Christmas! And then you must attend the Queen's masquerade in three weeks' time—"

"I cannot. I promised that I would be back in two weeks."

Jeanine laughed. "You can break a promise to a beast, Piper! Besides, it is not as if he would be counting the days till you returned."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A week, thought Raoul. A week since he had last seen Piper, a week since he had touched her face, a week since she had kissed him, sealing her promise upon his lips. A minute did not go by that he didn't think of her, and he was eagerly anticipating when he would see her again. He would tell her he loved her then, because he knew he could not live with her not knowing. He wanted to be able to experience her joys, her pains, her sorrows, her life—all those things that could be shared in love.

To take his mind off the wait, he had begun to paint again, to portray Piper in a burst of color on the canvas of his life's story. It was soothing to watch her develop under his watchful eye into an almost living, breathing version of his Piper.

His Piper. He wanted to see her so badly it made his body ache. He wanted to kiss her again and hold her and laugh with her. He had never before felt such an agonizing wait.

At least she would return in seven days.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They filled her days with parties and her nights with dancing, trying to make her forget. They would not let her stop moving because they didn't want her to return when she had so much to tell and their dear father to make better. So they forced her to move and prevented her from talking about the beast in hopes that she would forget.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Thirteen days. She would return tomorrow, bringing her world of hope and light and joy to the gloominess of his heart. Raoul rushed around the castle, even helping the servants clean and wash and polish because he knew it would make her happy. He tidied her room, his fingers running slowly across the neat bedspread where she had slept. He gently touched the green ball gown that she had given to Mrs. Lamphrey before leaving, remembering when he had danced with her. He walked through the library, touching books and reminiscing about when they had sat together by the fire and she had read to him, her clear sweet voice ringing through the library and his heart.

She comes tomorrow, he thought happily.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He waited all the next day for her but she didn't come. The snow fell hard and fast but she didn't emerge from the maelstorm, her eyes aglow and hair sparkling with the flakes. He sat in the library, staring out into the tumult, hoping against hope that the next shadow would be her.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They wouldn't let her leave. Piper tried but they physically forced her to stay. She made it out the door twice but they dragged her back inside, to a party or ball or something horrible where they laughed away her pain, claiming that such a beast would not care. He was probably grateful she had left, so he could get back to terrorizing innocent fathers.

Piper knew it was not so. Her heart wrenched as each day passed and her sisters threw her into their social circles so she couldn't escape. She knew her absence was tearing him apart inside and she cried at night when they locked her in her room. She was desperate to see him again and to tell him that she had not forgotten him, that she remembered her promise.

That she loved him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The Queen's masquerade was considered the grandest annual event in the history of the kingdom. Lords and ladies, princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses from all corners of the kingdom flocked to the castle for a night of dancing. Everyone who was anyone attended and it was considered an honor to receive an invitation.

"You will have a wonderful time, Piper!" Jeanine said, brushing her hair until it shone like glass. "I guarantee it."

Piper sat on the bed, staring listlessly out at the falling snow. January had brought no respite from the relentless snow, but still Piper loved it. She remembered walking through the castle grounds …

A silent sob choked her. Why did they not let her go? It had been a month already. Did they think she had forgotten him?

"Why do you keep me here?" Piper asked suddenly, looking at her sisters. "I must leave."

Jeanine glanced at Veronica. They had indeed thought she had forgotten him. And they had selfishly kept her here to watch Mr. Harris. He was progressing along nicely in his illness since Piper had come home.

"Surely you don't think he remembers you," Veronica said smoothly, while the maid laced her corset. "It has been almost a month."

"Either way, I must go to him. Please let me leave." Tears sparkled in Piper's eyes but her sisters did not see them—or if they did, they paid no mind to the fact that they were breaking their sister's heart. They were not that kind of people.

Veronica looked at her sister. "Are you sure you want to go back? I swear he does not remember you."

"He does remember me, I know he does." But her voice was less sure. She had been unable to find the mirror since she had come home and couldn't even watch Raoul anymore. Would he really forget her?

"Very well," Veronica said, sighing. "If you come to the masquerade tonight, we'll let you go to your beast."

"He is not a beast," said Piper angrily but her sister ignored her and went back to the mirror.

* * *

The illness tore through Raoul's body, making him so weak he could hardly stand. He was confined to the darkness of his chambers, to gazing out the window at the softly falling snow but not seeing any of the flakes. Mrs. Lamphrey brought him food and drink but when she came to collect the tray, the meals were always untouched. In the beginning he had eaten a little but now he refused to even take a sip of water.

It made the transformations harder, this refusal to eat. It weakened his body and made the usual pain increasingly harder to bear. But Raoul did not care. Day by day, night by night, he kept his silent vigil by the window, his eyes empty windows of inexplicable sadness.

"Why does she not come?" Mrs. Lamphrey whispered one night to Mrs. Thomas the dressmaker as they sat sipping tea. It must have looked interesting to watch the cups move up and down in invisible hands.

"Perhaps she wanted to get away. Perhaps the master frightened her."

"No." Mrs. Lamphrey shook her head. "I think she was beginning to love him."

There was a tinkle of china as Mrs. Thomas dropped her cup. "_Love_ him?" she repeated. "Isn't that enough to break the curse?"

"No. It requires professed love on both sides."

"Well, there is no doubt the master will do such a thing as soon as she returns."

Mrs. Lamphrey hesitated. "There is another condition," she said slowly. She had not spoken of it to anyone since the day she had heard Tovu talking to himself in the hall.

"And?"

"The master must selflessly sacrifice something very dear and precious to him because it was his pride that condemned him in the first place."

"Hasn't he changed? Is that not enough?"

"It should be, but it is not. This wizard cursed the master forever."

* * *

The dance was unbearable. Nobleman after nobleman asked Piper to dance but she declined, praying for three o'clock when she could leave. She had tried slipping out more than once but one of her sisters had grabbed her and steered her back in, keeping a firm hold on her arm. The glittering couples and whirling dresses made Piper sick. She longed for the quiet comfort of the castle's library, to be reading or dancing through the snow. Yet she was here and she felt chilled and dizzy, as if she were ill.

"Enjoy yourself, Piper," Veronica had instructed. Piper could not enjoy herself. She glanced at the clock. A quarter to three. She glanced at her sisters and saw they were both engaged with handsome young men and their fifth or sixth glasses of champagne and not liable to see her leave. Quietly, she slipped out and in no time at all, she had disappeared into the whirling snow.

* * *

It was all going according to plan. The old man rubbed his hands gleefully. Soon Piper would arrive at the castle and then came the breaking of hearts, the crushing of lives.

His part in the plan. The really enjoyable part. The time when he ruined everything.

* * *

The servants heard the big door slam at six o'clock but thought it was the wind, not realizing that even the wind couldn't open the door. They went about their lives until, as if by magic, a woman's voice pierced through the gloom:

"Hello? Is anyone here? Raoul?"

They couldn't believe it. They raced to the main hall and found a young woman standing in the hall, cold and frozen, her auburn hair a pile of tangles, grey eyes shining with worry.

"Piper!"

Mrs. Lamphrey rushed forward and enveloped the shivering girl in her arms. Piper looked up, her face pained.

"Where is Raoul?"

Instantly, the great hall was quiet. Mrs. Lamphrey was grateful for the invisibility that hid the look on her face. Slowly, carefully, she replied:

"He is very ill, child. Your absence has—has made the desire to live—"

"He is almost dead."

The new voice shattered the silence. Mrs. Lamphrey recognized Tovu's voice and whirled around in the direction she heard him speak, anger written on every line of her face. Even though one could not see her, everyone felt the fury permeating from her figure.

"Tovu, I thank you to—"

"I must go to him," Piper said, her face white, lips trembling. "Where is he?"

Silently, Mrs. Lamphrey led Piper to the Great Tower. She knocked softly on the door, but expected no answer. When none came, she quietly opened the door.

"Master?" she whispered, looking towards the master's chair and shivering. It was unbearably cold in here. But the master was not in the chair. With dread in her heart, Mrs. Lamphrey's eyes turned to the balcony. Raoul was standing there, a figure of pain and torment, the transformation to man complete for today. He was staring out at the snow, leaning against the glass with the finality of death.

Mrs. Lamphrey heard a sharp intake of breath as Piper choked back a sob deep in her throat. The girl's face was as pale as the snow and one could see the deep pain in her eyes.

"Have I done this?" she whispered and Mrs. Lamphrey saw Raoul's back stiffen. Slowly, painfully, he turned around and his dark eyes met Piper's.

* * *

She was standing there. He could not believe it. The illness was making him hallucinate; seeing Piper was merely an illusion. It could not be.

But yet he could not tear his eyes from her. How could he? Illusion or not, it still looked exactly like his Piper. And she looked beautiful. She was wearing some sort of ball gown but he paid no mind. His eyes never left hers.

"Oh Raoul!" she said and suddenly she was running toward him, tears streaming down her cheeks, slender hands outstretched.

It all happened in slow motion. Her fingertips had nearly touched his when the castle seemed to shake on its foundation and he was knocked to his knees. Piper landed beside him and the warmth of her hand sent a shock through his emaciated body. It was his Piper. The darkness of his gaze met the soft grey orbs.

"My, isn't this sweet!"

The voice … he had heard it before, laughing as he had transformed into the wolf, a voice that would haunt his dreams forever.

Slowly, pain travelling up his body, he turned to see the enchanter standing the open window, grinning gleefully at the sight of another's torment.

Illness forgotten, he was on his feet in an instant, leaping toward the enchanter. A low growl formed deep in his throat; he wanted to taste the man's blood on his lips, feel his life slowly oozing out from under Raoul's fingers. He had not remembered, though, that the man was an enchanter.

* * *

It was easy for the old man to fling the prince to the side. A simple flick of the fingers and Raoul's body crashed against the pillars and slumped motionless to the floor.

He turned to Piper who spared him hardly a glance before running to Raoul's side and cradling the prince's broken body in her arms. He smiled, even when she gave him a look of the utmost loathing.

"You are a monster," she said.

He smiled.

"Perhaps."

He walked around the room, taking in the surroundings. The servants clustered near the door, watching him in fear, their eyes glancing to Piper and the still form of the master.

"I was under the impression you thought no one a monster, my dear," he said suddenly, turning to the girl on the floor.

"I hadn't met you," she said, her voice cool—but the servants could see the fear in her grey eyes.

The enchanter smiled again. "Harsh words."

"Then you deserve them."

The smile deepened unpleasantly. He turned to where the servants stood, his still-smiling eyes glancing across the huddle as if he could see past the invisibility they wore like a shield. There was a collective shudder; Piper could feel it across the room.

"Go."

One word, and the servants dispersed as if by magic, their feet taking them out of Raoul's room, down the stairs. Though some struggled, it was futile. Magic held them by the hands.

The enchanter turned to Piper. The fear in her eyes was very real, but she glared stubbornly at him, calling upon the deepest recesses of her courage to not look away from the enchanter's eyes.

The old man grinned, teeth bared like a bear—like a beast. Piper shuddered. When he spoke, his words fell like quiet thunder.

"I have a proposition for you."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

In all her life, Piper had not heard six words that made her blood freeze as did those six. Not even when she had met Raoul for the first time did her whole body seem to quiver with fear. Perhaps, Piper thought, it was because somehow she knew, underneath his snarling facade, there was something good in Raoul.

She doubted there was any goodness in the enchanter.

Her eyes drifted to Raoul whose head lay nestled in the crook of her arm. He lay still, deathly white even beneath the dark tan his natural coloring afforded him. He had not opened his eyes for a substantial length of time, and from the way his right leg twisted, she knew he had broken it again.

Anger made her bold—anger at this enchanter, this man who would so readily ruin others' lives. She lifted her chin to meet his gaze bravely.

"What is your proposition?"

The old man looked at her and smiled. Piper bit her lip but still kept her grey eyes steady on him. There was something in his smile that she did not trust.

"Do you really desire to know of it, my dear?" he asked, softly, so that shivers crept up Piper's spine.

Piper opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative, but someone replied before.

"No."

Raoul could hardly recognize his own voice, weak and hoarse as it was. His lips could just barely form the single word, but that was not attributed to his anemic state. It was because Piper was touching him ... _holding_ him. The gentle softness of her fingertips on his arm sent a shy thrill through him that he had never before felt.

"No," he repeated, louder, trying to disguise his weakness.

Piper looked down at him. To his surprise, the faintest flicker of a sad smile brushed the corners of her mouth. Quietly, she reached up and placed her fingertips on his lips, willing him to be silent.

"Yes," she whispered. "I desire to know."

Helplessness surged through Raoul's body—coupled with the fire that burned where Piper had touched him—and helplessness brought with it fury at being in such a condition, unable to do anything but lie mute. His dark eyes spoke plainly of what he thought of that.

"What is your proposition?" Piper was speaking again, looking at the enchanter. Raoul saw the look of pleasure in the man's uncommon lavender eyes. It was pleasure brought from seeing lives ruined, and Raoul's loathing overflowed. He struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain that went shooting through his leg at even the slightest movement.

"You have no right to propose anything!" he said hotly. "You have ruined everything, you ; you have no right ..."

"And what does a beast have a right to?" the enchanter replied, joyful at the thought of argument, of wounds. "Happiness? Life? _Love_?"

Piper saw Raoul flush miserably but struggle to keep up all appearances of indifference, though it was obvious the enchanter's words had wounded him.

"Everyone has a right to be happy, to live, to love," Piper said, clearly.

"Even beasts?"

Piper's mouth tightened. "There are no beasts."

The enchanter sighed. "We have been through this before, and I grow tired of waiting. My proposition is this ..." But he paused here, regarding Piper carefully. "Would you like to see your family again?"

The question took Piper by surprise. She stared at the enchanter in bewilderment, as if trying to discern if he was telling the truth. Slowly, she spoke.

"Yes, I would like that very much."

"Very well."

And with a snap of his fingers, Jeanine, Veronica, and old Mr. Harris appeared in the Great Tower, as alive and real as the canvas across the room.

But there was one significant thing that also appeared with the three Harris family members: a great black wolf, from the shoulders almost as tall as Piper, was licking the blood that spilled from fresh wounds on their throats.

Piper shrank back, fear vivid in her eyes. All the remaining color had drained from Raoul's face as he stared, frozen, at the horrific scene before him; his fingers had strayed unconsciously to a faint scar at his throat.

"Your family, my dear," the enchanter said, the sweep of his arm encompassing the three motionless figures. "How well they look!" And then to Raoul: "This seems somewhat familiar, does it not?"

Raoul's eyes were riveted to the wolf; his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He seemed to see nothing, hear nothing, but the wolf. Piper looked at him and then gazed at her family, her grey eyes grieving silently. Without a word, she reached out and took Raoul's hand in hers.

"Your proposition, sir," she said evenly, a slight trembling betraying her dread.

The old man waved his hand and a chair appeared. He sat down and gazed comfortably at Piper.

"I must tell you that I admire you, my dear. It takes courage to live with a beast and sacrifice your life to his whims and fancies."

Raoul's icy hand tightened imperceptibly.

"There are not many in the world who have such courage, such passion for life. I have traveled to all corners of the globe, and all I have seen are those who are beasts. Even your family members are beasts, for they think of no one but themselves. Why, they even turned a poor old man out in the cold!"

The enchanter leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with a look Piper did not like.

"You make others happy, my dear. Even at your own expense. Why, you have even made your darling Raoul happy and I thought that would never happen." The enchanter's eyes suddenly hardened. "I cannot have a world with joy when I have worked so hard to make it joyless."

Raoul's hand was nearly crushing hers. Piper's mouth was dry and she could no longer hear anything but the beating of her heart and Raoul's rough, ragged breathing.

"I need blood, my dear. To make me happy. So my propostition is this: your life in exchange for your family's safety and Raoul's freedom from his curse."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

For a full minute, Raoul forgot how to breathe. He heard nothing but the enchanter's words echoing through his soul: _your life, your life, yourlifeyourlifeyourlifeyourlife_. Her life. Piper's. No.

He opened his mouth to oppose but no words came out.

"My life?" Piper whispered and her face was white. Raoul desperately wanted to hold her, to hide her from the cruelties the enchanter was inflicting with each poison-tipped word. But he could not move.

"Yes, my dear. Your life."

Piper turned slowly to look at Raoul. There was a look in her grey eyes as if she was seeing him for the first time, as if she were truly understanding his pain. His heart ached unlike it had ever before; it consumed him entirely until he lay shivering and exposed before the hopeless grey eyes.

"What is your decision, Piper Harris? I grow tired of waiting."

There was an edge in the enchanter's voice; the lavendar eyes were flinty and cold against his lined face.

"No," Raoul whispered. Her eyes were so close, so pained, so beautiful in their exquisite agony. As he watched, unconsciously memorizing every inch of her face, a tear trailed down her cheek.

"I must," and her voice was small, not his Piper's.

"You cannot!" he insisted, gripping her hands tighter, as if desperation could keep her there beside him forever.

"I am tired of waiting!"

The enchanter was suddenly between them, his fingers prying Raoul's hands from Piper's with violent gestures. Pain tore through Raoul's fingers; from their limp shape, he knew they were broken.

"I'll kill you," he hissed between his teeth at the enchanter, fury rising in his eyes, unquenched. The enchanter merely smiled and waved his hand.

A small basin appeared, plain and golden. A single rose carving was the only ornamentation.

"Tovu! The knife!"

As Raoul watched in horror, a small middle-aged man entered the room, holding a cushion on which rested a thin silver dagger. He moved quickly across the room, then knelt before the enchanter, the cushion raised.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Piper saw Raoul's heart breaking. In his eyes she saw mirrored what she felt.

"Tovu?" Raoul whispered.

The man turned only a little. There was no compassion in his eyes, Piper saw, only true hatred.

"You are no longer my master," he said mechanically.

The enchanter smiled.

"Good for you, Tovu! Severing the connections. I am proud of you."

Piper wanted to run to Raoul. To kiss him. To love him. But she could not. Because she had to die. She closed her eyes against the agony that welled within her.

The enchanter murmured something and seconds later, she fell limply into his arms. He set her down gently on the floor, positioning the basin under her throat. She felt nothing anymore; her body felt strangely detached. Was this death? Piper wondered hazily. Did it come this easily?

In the distance she heard Raoul's helpless pleas. She dragged herself back to reality, to a world where reality hurt her. Hurt Raoul. She wanted to hold him next to her. At least then his face would be her last memory.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"_Curses, thou must hither come."_

Piper's face was white.

Frozen.

Frightened.

"_From thy lands of nightswept hell."_

Her eyes did not move from Raoul's. She held his eyes as if they were her only lifeline.

He saw her crying.

"_With thy master's hand do not shun …"_

He loved her. Oh merciful heaven, he loved her more than his life!

"_The blood taken from the body's willing well."_

The cold silver blade flashed in the moonlight.

Knife raised.

Raoul leapt.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Oooooo … another cliffie! Although by now you'll probably have guessed what happens.

I don't really like this chapter—probably because I'm afraid it's getting to be one of those romances where everything possibly bad under the sun happens to two characters and by the end you're just sick of it! .: insert anger:. And possibly because I cranked it out really fast and didn't really develop/think of what's going to happen next. Tell me honestly what you think of it.

Well, to make you feel better, I'm almost done. Just a few more chapters, I think. Stick with me, guys! And maybe we'll get to the big 1-0-0 reviews! Woot!

To my loverly reviewers (some big juicy replies)—

**Galasriniel** (whoo! Tough time spelling that one! ;P): I like cliffhangers … except when they're other people's really really good stories and then I hate them. Sorry that it's beyond you—I think it's beyond me, too. But I can try to explain. If you want me to. .:smiles:.

**BelleEve**: At least your sister didn't have to watch you freak out. Scary thought … I think my family thinks I'm rather bizarre when I suddenly break into laughter after reading some FF. Must keep it down, I suppose …

Villainous villain! Woot! And I'm glad you like Raoul. Hopefully you'll still like him during this chapter. 

Are you happy I updated twice in two days? This is amazing for me. Be happy!

**TrudiRose, Abby, Ash**: Yay! Updates! Cliffies! I hope I don't make you too angry with this one too. :-O

em


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Piper saw him fall, his body crashing against the stone floor, red spilling out around his motionless form from the wound across his chest and creating a lake of darkness. The enchanter was staring at the blade in his hand, a blade rich with warm blood. He was smiling.

"No!" Piper heard someone scream Raoul's name; it was only later that she realized it was her mouth forming the word.

Somehow she made it to her feet, limping over to him, her whole body shaking.

"Get away from him, girl!" the enchanter said suddenly, roughly grabbing at her arm. She looked up at him through a haze of tears. It seemed as if his unnatural lavendar eyes were frightened.

"You have done enough harm," Piper whispered, her voice shaking. "Leave me. Leave him. Leave us be, you monster!"

Anger surged through her body; anger—and sorrow—made her violent. She turned and shoved him with all the strength she possessed.

He stumbled backward, not expecting the gesture. For a single moment, his fingers slipped from the knife he had held so loosely in his grasp. For an eternity, time was frozen, the knife suspended in the still air. Piper found she could not tear her eyes from it.

The knife fell.

The very tip grazed the enchanter's palm. Blood—the tiniest drop—pooled at the cut.

The enchanter cursed and his lavendar eyes turned to Piper, dark with hatred. He made a movement with the knife. Piper flinched, ready for the downward blow, her body arching over Raoul's.

The blow never came. Instead, a scream utterly unlike anything Piper had ever heard, a scream like a dying animal's, issued from the enchanter's lips. The knife dropped from his grasp; he was clutching his wrist, staring with unconcealed horror at the little cut.

And Piper saw that he was burning. Smoke, dark and ominous, rose from the cut. As Piper watched mutely, the cut sizzled and burned, spreading across the enchanter's palm.

"What magic is this!" the enchanter screamed, waving his hand in the air. It was a futile gesture. The sizzling slowly made its way down his arm, consuming the flesh and filling the air with the sharply acrid smell of burning skin. Soon there was nothing left but a stump of an arm. And still the burning came, travelling across the enchanter's body.

"It is no magic," Piper whispered.

"Tovu!" the enchanter cried. The manservant stood stockstill, staring blankly at the man who had been his true master all these years. In that moment, he knew the magic that caused such fire to burn in the enchanter's blood. It was the magic written in Piper's eyes as she stood beside Master Raoul; it was the magic etched across Raoul's face whenever he was in Piper's presence; it was the magic buried deep inside them both, inside the castle, even deep within the servants, that made the enchanter's skin burn, for it was a magic utterly foreign to an ageless man riddled with jealousy, hatred, and malice.

Tovu knew there was no such magic within himself. There never had been any. There never would be any. He had spent so many years with hatred in his heart that he did not know anything of this magic.

The enchanter screamed. His body was a writhing mess of black ash—all except for his face. The lavendar eyes held Piper's in a death embrace.

And then the fire consumed the face. Nothing remained except for a creeping tendril of black smoke.

The room was silent. Piper found that she was indescribably weak, as if she had just battled a thousand dragons. With a soft cry of pain, her knees gave way and she sank down next to Raoul.

Raoul …

Piper turned to him, her eyes searching his white face for signs of life. Fingers trembling uncontrollably, she touched the cold face, brushed his hair from his forehead.

"Raoul," she whispered. "Raoul, please say something!"

She could hardly see anymore; her eyes were clouded with tears. She choked back a sob.

"Raoul, I'm sorry," she found herself saying, the words coming without thought, her fingers clenching his shirt front desperately, as if somehow that would keep him from leaving. For he _was_ leaving. She could feel the life slowly draining from him. She fought to hang on.

"I thought that I could never learn to care about you," she whispered, her cheek coming to rest on his chest, the blood warm against her cheek. "I thought you were a monster." The tears were coming faster now, resting lightly on her cheeks. "You were a beast to me. I did not think there was any goodness in you." She shut her eyes. "I think so differently now, Raoul! Please, you mustn't leave. I have to tell you. Please, Raoul!"

He was dying. The soft breathing was now almost gone. Piper lifted her head and looked down at the still face, her heart aching when she thought of never seeing that flash of shy innocence in his dark eyes or that soft look whenever he thought she wasn't looking.

"Raoul, I must tell you!"

Her fingers tightened around his shirt front as she leaned down, her mouth near his.

"I love you, Raoul," she breathed, tears warm on her face as she bent down and kissed him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Tovu saw Piper lean down over the master, heard the whispered words almost as if they had been magnified across the room. So it was as he had always suspected. Piper loved the master.

Was that satisfaction somewhere deep within? For a moment, Tovu wondered at it as he stood poised at the edge of the balcony. Was he happy for the master?

Happiness was so foreign. The small man stood still for a moment longer, as if contemplating the meaning of the word. Had he ever been truly happy?

_Imagining the master's downfall_, he thought but it did not bring him that flash of cruel pleasure as it had done in times past. He was left only with emptiness. And that, he realized with sudden clariy, was what he was. An empty man full of empty hatred.

He did not wish the master farewell. But he turned and lifted his hand in a half-salute to the pile of ash on the floor where an enchanter had been once. _To ruined lives_, he thought—_to my own ruined life_.

The ground yawned before him. The last step was a long one.

He breathed in deeply and took the last step.

* * *

**Well, you've made it! Just one more chappie, I think, and then this baby's done. I'm sorry that I don't have time to review to every single one of you lovely reviewers (thank you, thank you, thank you!) but I have to work bright and early tomorrow morning and I really need to get my beauty sleep. I PROMISE big, juicy, long replies to everyone who reviews. **

**This is kind of an odd chapter; I hope it's not too depressing and that the characters keep their character--if that make sense. Thank you to everyone who made it this far!**

**Almost done. :)**

**em**


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